


Casual

by mostlybees



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Depression, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, depressed!peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 21:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15156353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlybees/pseuds/mostlybees
Summary: It was easily ignored once he got used to it. It was casual. There, but not really there. Casually suicidal. And wasn't that just one of the weirdest things someone could say.





	Casual

**Author's Note:**

> -strums guitar- this story was inspired by the time i said something awkward in a restaurant and lost two nights of sleep over it

_I want to die, I want to die, I want to die._

It swam through the back of Peter's mind at all hours, the intense feeling of wrongness and sorrow. The feeling of taking up too much space, only capable of producing mistakes. It was casual, almost, something that was just always there, even when he was technically _fine._ He could be having a good day, living his life somewhat normally, as normal as possible anyway, and it would be there, whispering into his ear, wrapping itself around his thoughts almost gently.

_I want to die._

It was easily ignored once he got used to it. It was casual. There, but not really there, casually suicidal. And wasn't that just one of the weirdest things someone could say.

On good days it would only take one mistake, one comment, one thought to tip the scales, sending him hurtling towards the edge, his thoughts screaming at him almost violently. It was easy to let something slightly negative spiral into _'you should kill yourself'._ Uncomfortably easy. And suddenly it was a lot less casual.

It was stupid, logically he understood that it was stupid, there was no reason for such tiny things to get to him as much as they did, but it slingshotted him so deep into depression that the urge to disconnect from everyone he knew and just wait for death to claim him grew with each passing moment.

He got reckless and he knew it, a deathwish always on the tip of his tongue. It was easy to ignore, but impossible to forget. He didn't know if he had the guts to actually do it, but if an accident happened then it could hardly be called his fault. So maybe when he swung around the city he would see how long he could take before he needed to shoot the next web, resulting in several extremely close calls. And maybe he jumped into situations he wasn't entirely prepared for and didn't think through at all. There were many nights he came home with bullet wounds and deep, dark bruises spreading across his skin like a fucked up watercolour painting. It never killed him. When Wade asked, Peter acted relieved, but deep down he knew he couldn't fool him.

He stopped counting all his injuries, took maybe a little bit too long to patch up the stab wounds. He wasn't actively trying to die, but he wasn't trying to live either and Wade was starting to notice.

"You're killing yourself," Wade said as he tried to patch up another bullet wound, just another scar to add to his collection. Thankfully nothing vital had been hit.

Peter was sitting on the floor of Wade's bathroom, hissing in pain through his teeth. "I'm not," He mumbled, voice coming out slightly strained. "I wasn't the one who shot me."

"But you didn't try to stop it, either." Wade sounded disappointed, mostly masked by a healthy dose of concern, but the disappointment was there. Peter had disappointed him and he felt his blood freeze. Wade shouldn't have to worry about Peter's well-being, that wasn't fair, Wade had his own problems to worry about and the last thing Peter wanted to do was to pile on even more.

_He wouldn't have to worry if you were dead._

_I want to die, I want to die, I want to die._

And so he spiraled deeper, getting stuck in his own head, barely even noticing the pain of Wade bandaging up the wound to stop the bleeding. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and he hated it, hated being weak.

Wade cleaned up quickly, before turning back to Peter. He tried to blink the tears away, but all it did was make them spill down his cheeks and Wade noticed, because of course he did. Wade gently wiped the tears away with his thumb, the action way too intimate for two guys who were supposedly just friends.

"You know you can tell me if something is wrong, right?" It was sweet, way sweeter than he'd expected from Deadpool of all people, but leave it to Deadpool to make Peter question everything he thought he knew about the mercenary.

"I'm fine. J'st didn't get much sleep last night... 's prob'ly why I was too slow to dodge the bullet..." He felt light-headed, probably the blood loss, and even through the mask Peter could see that Wade was frowning.

"Alright, baby boy, you're staying here tonight." Normally Peter would've protested the nickname, but he couldn't find the energy, so he just nodded and let Wade help him up, trying to ignore the sharp stabs of pain coming from the wound.

 

* * *

 

When Peter woke up his wound was already mostly healed, the ache was still there whenever he moved, but it was not nearly as bad as before. From his place on Wade's couch he could hear him rummaging around in the kitchen, loudly singing along to some pop song Peter didn't recognize. The smell of pancakes filled the air and only then did Peter realize just how hungry he really was.

With a quiet groan Peter managed to get off the couch. His suit was torn to pieces and covered in blood, the sticky fabric clinging to his skin uncomfortably. He didn't exactly have any other clothes he could wear though, so it would have to do for now.

"Petey!" Wade called out when he noticed Peter stumbling into the kitchen, looking like a hot mess. "I was wondering when you'd wake up." Wade was wearing a dark grey hoodie and a pair of loose fitting jeans, so different from his usual red spandex that it almost startled Peter. He rarely got to see him like that, it felt weird, like he was seeing a side of Wade he wasn't supposed to.

"Yeah... Thanks for letting me stay here, even though I got blood all over your bathroom floor," He said awkwardly, running a hand through his hair and wincing when the movement sent a sharp spike of pain through his body.

"Speaking of that..." The look on Wade's face changed from cheerful to concerned in an instant and Peter felt his stomach drop. There was no way he was getting out of this conversation. "I'm worried about you."

"Can't this wait until after breakfast? Y'know, when you're not risking burning the pancakes."

Wade just scoffed. "Baby boy, you think so highly of me. I am the best at multitasking and I would never let an innocent pancake burn," He replied, turning away to flip the pancake. "So are you gonna tell me why you've been trying to get yourself killed? Or am I supposed to believe the Amazing Spider-man has just been unusually clumsy lately?"

"Definitely the second one." Peter mumbled, pulling the blood soaked fabric away from his skin just to have something to do with his hands. The motion made Wade look down and the look on his face made it very clear that he hadn't realized just how terrible Peter looked.

"Do you need to borrow some clean clothes?" He asked, gesturing at Peter. "You look like you crawled out of a garbage can."

"Thanks," Peter huffed bitterly. "And no offense, but I think I would drown in your clothes."

"I think you'd look adorable." Wade said casually as he turned his back to Peter again to finish making more pancakes. Peter was not going to blush. _He was not going to blush._ Never had he been more glad that Wade was looking away. "But suit yourself. So about your goal to get shot as much and as often as possible," He started again and Peter immediately cut him off.

"You have a point, this suit is really gross... I'll go... steal some stuff from your closet," He spoke hurriedly in a not-so-subtle attempt to get out of the conversation. If he had any less dignity he'd probably be climbing out of the window.

The hoodie he grabbed from Wade's room was so soft and warm that he seriously considered just not returning it. Wade probably wouldn't mind if it went missing. Unfortunately he couldn't find pants, or at least sweatpants, that wouldn't immediately fall off his ass, but the hoodie was large enough that it came down to approximately mid-thigh, so he wasn't too concerned about that. It wasn't like Wade hadn't seen him half naked before.

"I was right!" Wade exclaimed as soon as Peter walked into the kitchen again. "You do look adorable. With the sweater paws and stuff," He clarified, after noticing the confused look on Peter's face.

"U-uh, thanks?" He pushed the sleeves of the hoodie up again to stop them from falling over his hands, but it proved to be a fruitless effort. "So how're the pancakes coming along?" He asked, trying to go for casual, but Wade wasn't falling for it.

"Baby boy, I won't make you talk about this, but I'm worried about you. We're friends, right?" He asked, briefly turning away from piling the pancakes onto two plates to look at Peter. Peter just nodded in response. "I'd hate to lose a friend because he was being careless."

"I'm not being careless." Peter toyed with the edge of the hoodie nervously. It hurt to have Wade look at him like that, because deep down he knew he didn't deserve it, didn't deserve Wade's kindness. Wade let him stay in his home, made him breakfast, let him borrow his clothes. It was too much.

"You are. Petey, I've had to patch you up more often the past 3 or so months than in the last year." Wade pushed a plate of pancakes in Peter's direction and proceeded to drown his own in way too much syrup. The way he talked while also just going about his life was strange, as if they were just having a conversation about the weather instead of Peter's increasingly dangerous suicidal tendencies.

"Things are just... hard," He tried to explain, but it was barely an explanation, really.

"So the solution is to just jump in front of bullets and see if it fixes it?"

"I don't jump in front of bullets," Peter protested. "And I don't know, okay... It's not like I'm actually going to kill myself. I just..." _I want to die._ He swallowed thickly, wondering if he was going to say it out loud, wondering if he'd have the guts to do it. "I want to die." The moment the words left his mouth he felt anxiety fill his guts, tangling around his lungs and taking his breath away. It felt like leaning back in a chair and nearly having it tip over, that spike of anxiety that made him feel physically sick. The pancakes that had looked delicious earlier now just looked like they would make him throw up, his stomach too full of regret and fear already.

"Peter..." Wade spoke softly, putting his plate away to move closer to him. "Do you want to talk about how you feel?" He asked carefully, looking at Peter in a way that he couldn't entirely decipher. It made him feel safe and Peter tried to force his anxiety down as much as possible. He could trust Wade, Wade was his friend.

"It's not... It's not that bad, really. It's not like that all the time... I mean, it is, but it's not _bad_ all the time. I just... I always want to die, it's always there, but mostly I can just ignore it. Except sometimes something happens and before I know it I'm just in so deep and I can't think about anything else. It's... casual most of the time, until it kind of spirals out of control." Peter took a deep breath. "I'm not making any sense, am I?" He looked up at Wade who was now so close to him that he could feel the heat radiating off his body and for a moment Peter forgot how to breathe.

"Not really, but don't you think you should get help with this? And I'm not saying you can't come to me, because I'm always happy to talk to you, but I'm not exactly the most stable person around and I won't be able to help you like a professional can."

"I've... thought about it, but I don't know..." Peter was chewing on his lip nervously, trying to think of something to say that was somewhat reassuring, because the thought of Wade spending so much time worrying about him _killed_ him.

"I don't want to watch you kill yourself, Peter. And this isn't exactly a thing that can be fixed overnight, but I don't think you want to continue living like this, either. It's not going to be like this forever." Wade's hand somehow ended up on Peter's wrist, thumb rubbing soothing circles over the sensitive skin. It was so soft and gentle, so much more than Peter deserved and he felt tears well up in his eyes. Wade was right, he didn't want to continue living like this, because he was barely even living.

"It's hard..." He whispered.

Suddenly Peter was being pulled into a hug, Wade's warm, solid body pressed so tightly against his own, the smell of pancakes clinging to his hoodie and before Peter had time to think about it, he had his arms wrapped around Wade as well. It felt good, safe, like this was right where he was supposed to be and the sudden urge to kiss Wade hit him like a ton of bricks.

He pulled away just a little to look at Wade with tears in his eyes and apparently Wade had the same idea, because moments later his lips were pressed to Peter's in a kiss so soft it turned Peter's legs to jelly. Peter moved his hand up to rest on the back of Wade's neck and Wade's fingers slowly slid under the oversized hoodie, gently caressing Peter's bare skin in a way that sent shivers down his spine.

It was overwhelming in the best way possible, his mind completely empty of anything but _Wade._ He couldn't believe it took them so long to get to this, but now that they were there he never wanted to let go.

And maybe he'd be a little more cautious next time he went patrolling.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I managed to write in like a week
> 
> if you liked it please leave a comment <3


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